


Stretching All the Way from Here

by rivers_bend



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I found out yesterday Tommy used to have a lip ring. Apparently that meant a high school AU was in order. Idek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stretching All the Way from Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [autoschediastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/gifts).



> I do not know any of the people whose personas are mentioned here, and neither believe nor mean to imply this ever happened.

Adam didn't know what he was doing, sitting in California Pizza Kitchen waiting for a boy he hadn't seen in two years. He looked at his watch again. Tommy was late. Maybe he wasn't coming. Maybe this was some sort of joke. The ice had melted in Adam's Coke, making it taste slightly bitter.

Tommy was his best friend in elementary school, but the last time he'd seen him was Tommy's thirteenth birthday party. After sixth grade Adam's family moved from Burbank to Santa Monica, and though they'd talked on the phone and gotten their parents to drive them a few times, it hadn't been the same. When Adam got the invite to Tommy's party it had been almost six months since they'd seen each other. The guest list included Adam and Tommy and four or five boys Adam didn't know from Tommy's new school. They'd eaten cake and tacos and played football in the back yard, even though Adam hated football.

The other boys were all good friends, and Adam felt left out and awkward most of the time; Tommy mostly ignored him. Then Adam's father had called as the other parents were picking up their kids and said he would be late. Like this was good news, Tommy's mother smiled when she told him, inviting him to stay as long as he wanted. She'd always liked Adam.

But now that the other boys were gone, Tommy had seemed glad to see him, taking Adam's hand and pulling him toward the stairs. "Come on, I want to show you something." They'd gone up to Tommy's bedroom, where the floor was littered with books, bits of electrical junk that might have been an amp at some point, games, and discarded clothes. Tommy tugged him to the bed under the window. "Sit there." Pushing Adam down, he went to a chest of drawers in the corner.

Adam had spent many hours in this room when he and Tommy had been in school together, but now it felt different. Maybe a little dangerous. Something about the look Tommy was giving him, like they were in on a secret, made him nervous. Tommy pulled his hand from the back of the drawer he'd been digging in and with a look of triumph on his face held up a crumpled pack of Marlborough Menthol Lights, a lighter peeking out of the torn corner.

"Where'd you get those?" Adam was sure that Mrs. Ratliff wouldn't approve.

"I lifted them. Want one?" Tommy flopped down on the bed, head under the open window holding out the pack.

"Won't your mom smell the smoke?"

"Nah, that's why we blow it out the window. You'll have to come over here though. It's no good you sitting on the end of the bed, it's too far away." Tommy scooted up a bit, pulling a pillow over and propping his head on the window sill. Adam moved closer as instructed. A challenge in his eyes, Tommy handed him a cigarette and the lighter.

Adam had never smoked, but he'd paid attention to people lighting cigarettes. He put the filter in his mouth and flicked the wheel of the lighter. It took a couple of goes to spin it fast enough to spark the gas. Tommy watched, mouth twitching. When Adam got the flame to touch the end of the cigarette he sucked in too hard and coughed violently, flailing, dropping the lighter and nearly burning Tommy in the face with the glowing butt-end.

"Hey! Watch it!" Tommy plucked the cigarette from his fingers, putting it between his own lips. "And quiet down will you? Mom will be up here if you keep that up."

Adam leaned over Tommy to get the other pillow to muffle his coughing, and felt a warm brush of fingers on his waist, making him jerk backwards and nearly fall off the bed. When he finally got the coughing under control, Adam looked at Tommy over the top of the pillow, and found him watching Adam through his eyelashes, cigarette held loosely between his fingers, ribbon of smoke trailing out the window. Adam kept the pillow over his face. He didn't know what to make of this new Tommy, who seemed more confident than the boy he remembered.

They sat in silence, until, taking a final drag, Tommy stubbed out the butt on the windowsill and pushed himself up on his elbows. "You ok now?" he asked.

Still watching from behind the pillow, Adam nodded.

Shifting his weight to one arm, Tommy had reached out and drawn the pillow away. Adam had let him. Reaching out again, Tommy took Adam's wrist and pulled him forwards, ignoring Adam's resistance, tightening his grip so Adam overbalanced and fell onto Tommy's chest. Adam had felt his heart fluttering against Tommy's ribs, and then there'd been a hand on the back of his head and Tommy's lips mashed into his, tongue sliding wetly between them, tasting of smoke and chocolate. Planting his hands on Tommy's shoulders, Adam had pushed away, slid off the bed, run down the stairs and out the front door. He was two streets away when he saw his father's car turn the corner.

Adam hadn't seen or spoken to Tommy since.

Until Wednesday, when Tommy had called and asked if he wanted to get some pizza Friday night. Still finding it hard to believe it was really Tommy on the phone, Adam had been shocked into saying yes. And now he was sitting in West Hollywood, looking like he'd been stood up.

The waiter who'd taken his drink order came back. "Did you want to order any food yet? Or are you still waiting?" He sounded like he didn't think anyone was coming. And why should he? A chubby, awkward kid sitting at a table all alone for half an hour, Adam was the perfect high school-movie-cliché loser.

After another ten minutes of fighting with himself over whether he should stay or go, Adam was about to just ask for the check for his Coke when he saw a familiar shape slouch through the door. Tommy was taller now, and had a ring in his lip, and another in his eyebrow, but he still had that hungry-eyed look Adam remembered. The waiter followed Adam's gaze, flaring his nostrils slightly at the boy in baggy jeans and a black trench coat weaving his way through the tables. Tommy didn't exactly blend in with the crowd.

"I'll come back to take your order," the waiter sneered. Adam wished again that he'd left after the first twenty minutes.

Tommy pulled out the chair and slid bonelessly into it, stretching out one booted foot and nudging Adam's ankle. "Hey. Sorry I'm late. Places to go, people to do…"

Adam shrugged as though it didn't matter. "Whatever." He wasn't sure what he'd expected. Not an apology or anything, but maybe something other than this acting like they'd last seen each other a week ago and that they had dinner together all the time.

"We eating? I'm hungry." Tommy managed to sound like Adam was the one that was nearly forty-five minutes late. Like it was his fault they weren't already ordering dessert.

"We'd be eating already if you'd gotten here on time. What do you want?" Adam wasn't usually snippy to his friends, but he wasn't even sure Tommy still fell into that category.

Tommy's lip ring twitched in amusement, but he snagged his menu and didn't say anything.

Adam had chosen ages ago, but picked up his menu again for something to look at. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Tommy picking up Adam's Coke and putting Adam's straw in his mouth. The tip of his tongue darted out for a moment, making Adam's stomach lurch uncomfortably. He stared dumbly as Tommy sucked up a mouthful of Coke, pulling the straw out of his mouth before swallowing. "Kind of watery," Tommy said.

"The ice melted while I was waiting for you. What are you doing drinking my Coke anyway?" Adam fantasized about pushing away from the table and striding out of the restaurant, leaving Tommy alone to pay for the glass of watery Coke and sit there like he'd been stood up. Instead, he snatched the glass back, plucking the straw out and throwing it on the table, and drank down the rest in one swallow.

The waiter was back. "What can I get you?"

Tommy went first. "I'll have a Margherita pizza and a beer."

"I don't think so. Pizza and a Coke, maybe."

Tommy looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but backed off under the waiter's stare. "Fine, I'll have a Coke."

"I'll have a Giardiniera and another Coke as well, please." Adam was aware he was being extra polite out of embarrassment but he couldn't stop.

"Margherita and a Giardiniera and two Cokes." The waiter tucked his pad into his apron and headed towards the kitchen.

"Did you really think he was going to bring you a beer?"

"I've gotten beer before. Some places don't ask for ID. They can't do anything to you for asking."

Adam didn't know what to say to that. Tommy was fifteen. There was no way he'd ever been served alcohol in a restaurant. Adam was getting tired of whatever game Tommy was playing. "So what are we doing here?"

"I like it here. The pizzas are good."

"But what am _I_ doing here? Why did you call me? We haven't spoken in two years. Why now?"

Tommy worried at the ring in his lip with his teeth. "I just thought you might like to get a pizza is all. No special reason."

The waiter came back with their drinks and Adam turned his attention to the other customers as he toyed with his new straw. The other one—the one that had been in Tommy's mouth—was still sitting on the table, right by Adam's wrist. He could feel Tommy's eyes on him, but worked hard to ignore them. Neither boy said a word until after their pizzas came and they'd started eating.

"So do you really like all those vegetables, or do you just order them to be a good boy?" Tommy had eaten half his pizza and was looking askance at Adam's.

"I like vegetables." Adam tried to match Tommy's look of scorn. "Isn't that pizza boring? You could have gotten pepperoni or something."

"I like it better like this." Tommy sounded petulant, but then he grinned, looking for the first time like the kid Adam remembered, and twirled a piece of cheese around his finger with a flourish, popping it into his mouth.

Adam couldn't help but laugh at the childish display. "Classy."

Still smiling, Tommy said, "Simple pleasures"

After that things were easier. Tommy seemed to lose some of his attitude and they just talked. About school, and music, and what movies they'd seen recently. Adam remembered why he and Tommy had been friends in the first place.

 

"Can you hang some more?" Tommy asked as they pushed through the doors of the restaurant into the street.

Adam didn't really have a curfew on weekends, so he nodded, and they headed towards Franklin Park. The trees seemed part of some stage set, illuminated by the never-really-darkness of the city.

Tommy skipped ahead, twirling round and walking backwards so he could watch Adam. He narrowly avoided trampling a small dog pulled out of the way by its owner at the last moment, and then fell off the curb, laughing at Adam's wide eyes. "Come on. Hurry up," he called, and Adam quickened his pace until they were side by side. They crossed the road to the park.

Under the shadowed side of a tree, Tommy stopped and leaned against the trunk. Adam's stomach clenched like it had when Tommy brought out the cigarettes after the party.

"C'mere." Tommy gestured Adam closer with two slim fingers protruding from the overlong sleeve of his coat.

Adam took a step closer. Impatiently, Tommy gestured again, and Adam stepped close enough for Tommy to grab the front of his jacket. Adam's mouth went dry as paper. He looked down at Tommy's hand fisted around the edge of denim hanging open over his t-shirt. He imagined he could feel the heat of Tommy's knuckles on his stomach, through the thin cotton and millimetres of air between them. Tommy tugged at the fabric until Adam had his right foot between Tommy's boots, until their thighs were nearly touching. Adam couldn't fill his lungs. He stopped breathing altogether when Tommy's hand released his jacket and snaked around his waist instead.

"No running off this time," Tommy said, before pulling Adam against him with the hand on the small of his back. Adam felt Tommy's fingers twist in his hair, and then they were kissing. Sloppy, hungry, open mouths and sharp teeth. Adam's tongue slid over the ring in Tommy's lip, the taste of steel making his fingers tighten on Tommy's shoulders. He'd never thought—never even imagined—that he might be making out with a boy in the middle of a park, but he couldn't stop.

Releasing Adam's hair, leaving his scalp tingling, Tommy dropped his hand to Adam's ass, canting his hips forwards, grinding against Adam's thigh as he pulled Adam hard against his hipbone. Adam couldn't tell if the soft noises reaching his ears were coming from his throat or Tommy's, or if they were swapping moans as well as spit. He pulled away, gasping for breath, flushed hot but with gooseflesh stirring the hair at the back of his neck.

Dropping his head back against the tree, Tommy breathed, "Fuck. When do you have to be home?"

Adam took a second to figure out what the words meant and another to get what the question implied. He tried to extricate himself from Tommy's grip, but Tommy was stronger than he looked.

"No. Come on. You want this." Tommy rubbed lewdly against Adam's hard-on. "Let me touch you." The hand on Adam's ass moved towards his fly. Adam looked wildly around to see if anyone was watching them. "Or come home with me. No one's there. Just for a little while. Please."

Adam found himself nodding. He did want this. He'd been able to pretend it was just something to think about with the lights off, but now it was here in his hands? Fuck.

Tommy kissed him once, hard on the lips, and taking Adam's hand, ran for the bus stop.

Too late for commuters and too early for most of the nightlife crowd, the bus was almost empty. There were four girls near the front laughing and shrieking over something one of them was holding, and a guy sleeping with his head against the window, but Tommy and Adam were alone in the back. Tommy had his hand on Adam's dick through his jeans, the skirt of his coat draped over Adam's lap. Adam wanted to stop him, wanted to thrust into that hand until he came, wanted to suck on Tommy's lip ring and tongue. Instead he sat, stock still, watching Tommy's reflection in the glass as Tommy smirked in the direction of the giggling gang.

They wound through Studio City, Tommy's hand a constant tease making Adam's breath catch and his thighs clench so tightly they ached. When the girls piled off the bus Tommy leaned in and bit Adam's earlobe. "Next stop," he whispered, and squeezed to emphasise his point. Adam bit his tongue and shut his eyes, wishing desperately that Tommy would just leave him alone for a minute to get some air in his lungs.

A group of older boys, sixteen or seventeen years old, pushed and shoved their way to the fare box. Tommy apparently had some sense of self preservation left; by the time they'd paid the driver, his hands were in his own lap and he was leaning away from Adam, looking out the opposite window. The bus lurched, knocking the smallest boy hard into the biggest. The tall one shoved him into a seat. "Oy, faggot, watch where you're going."

Adam thought he might throw up.

Nothing else happened though. The small boy held out a placating hand, and said, "Sorry, sorry. I just lost my balance." Everyone ignored him.

When they'd all settled into seats, Tommy stood and pressed the bell. Hunching in an effort to hide the bulge in his jeans, Adam followed him over the obstacle course of sprawling legs to the stairs. The cool air when the bus doors opened to release them into the night was a relief.

They were still about half a mile from Tommy's house.

As they walked past the corner where Adam's dad had picked him up after Tommy's party, Adam wondered what he was doing following Tommy home. Then his stomach flipped as he remembered the feel of Tommy's tongue in his mouth, and he wished they were there already.

Tommy used his key to let them in. When the door shut behind them he asked, "Do you want a drink?"

Adam looked at him. "No."

Tommy's smile was wolfish, and scary, and made Adam's dick jump. "Right. Upstairs then?"

Tommy's bedroom was no cleaner than the last time Adam had seen it; Tommy kicked aside a pile of books and clothes to clear a path to the bed. He flung his coat over his desk chair and pushed Adam's jacket off his shoulders to get lost in the general mess. He tugged at Adam's shirt, starting to pull it off, but then got distracted by Adam's neck, hooking his hand around the back of it, kissing and biting the spot under his ear. When Adam moaned and sank onto the bed, Tommy followed him down.

They grappled, mouths and hands hot on each other's skin, clothing pushed and tugged and stretched, legs tangling and pressing, kissing forever. Finally they lay panting—Adam with one foot on the floor, Tommy half on top of him, booted feet hanging off the side of the bed. Adam disentangled his fist from Tommy's twisted t-shirt, allowing him to sit up and unlace his boots. Adam felt sure his own shoes should be easier to take off, but Tommy was sitting between his legs and he wasn't sure he could sit up.

After he finished removing his boots and pulled his shirt off over his head, Tommy nudged Adam in the thigh. "No shoes on the bed." He fingered the hem of Adam's shirt and then ran the flat of his hand across Adam's stomach. "Shirt off too." Abandoning his exploration of the edge of Adam's ribs, he pulled Adam up by the arm. While he was toeing his shoes off, Tommy took care of his shirt for him. Adam crossed his arms over his chest and shivered in the draught coming around the edge of the window.

"Do you want to get under the covers?"

Adam nodded.

They lay down next to each other, comforter up to their shoulders. Adam wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but then he didn't have to think about it because Tommy was pushing him down onto his back and kissing him again, and his arms wrapped around Tommy's waist of their own accord.

Adam had never thought much about the rings people seemed to be putting into their noses and eyebrows and lips these days, but he was drawn to the click of metal against his teeth, to the slide of it against his tongue, as Tommy opened his mouth to Adam's kisses. Tommy's skin felt thin and stretched tightly over his bones, but it moved under Adam's hands, softer and more pliable than he'd expected. Then Tommy had his hand on Adam's stomach again, fingers teasing under his waistband, and all thoughts of skin and lip rings were replaced with a need to have those fingers wrapped around him, tempered by a fear of Tommy touching him there without the dubious protection of denim.

Tommy apparently had no such fear because he was fumbling with Adam's button and zipper, pushing Adam's boxers out of the way, and sighing into Adam's mouth as his hand reached flesh. "You're so _hard_."

Adam could feel himself blushing but Tommy was kissing him again and didn't seem to care. Tommy was hard against Adam's hip, his thigh heavy on Adam's leg, his fingers cupping the back of Adam's head. Adam thrust into the hand stroking him, tilting his head back, hoping Tommy would take the hint, would bite him again. Tommy tried to follow his mouth but then gave up, kissing Adam's jaw and down the side of his throat. He licked along Adam's collarbone, and Adam groaned in frustration. Tommy sped up the motion of his hand, and that was good, but wasn't what Adam wanted. He tried to press his shoulder up into Tommy's mouth.

Tommy stopped everything and looked at him. "What do you want?"

"Fuck. Don't stop. Just… don't stop."

"What else?" Tommy resumed jerking.

Adam's need for Tommy's teeth overcame his need to not have to say the words out loud. "Bite me."

Tommy nipped at the skin over his collarbone and then bit hard into his chest. Adam could feel Tommy sucking a bruise up into his mouth, edges defined by the twin curves of his teeth. It hurt more than he'd expected. He gasped, twisted against the weight of Tommy's leg, and thrust into the fingers tightening around him, coming messily over himself and Tommy's hand and the sheets.

Tommy had a gleam in his eye when he looked down at Adam that made Adam look away. It was like Tommy could see every thought Adam had ever jerked off to in secret, and Adam couldn't face anyone else knowing about all that. "I should go," he mumbled into the pillow.

"Not yet." Tommy took Adam's hand and placed it over the bulge in his jeans. "My turn."

None of Adam's fantasies had prepared him for the feel of another guy's dick in his palm. It wasn't like having his hands on himself; it was the wrong angle and a different shape. But even with the wrong hand, it felt good. So fucking good.

Tommy undid his buttons and moved Adam's hand into his pants.

"No, I'm right handed," Adam blurted at the first touch of skin.

Trying to get a better position, Tommy rolled further on top of Adam, but there was no room on the other side of him to lie. "Stupid single bed. Scoot over." Tommy lifted up a bit to give Adam wiggle room.

With more difficulty than it should have taken, they got themselves situated so Adam could use his right hand. And that felt even better. It was still an awkward angle, and it was strange to have all the sensation in his hand with none on his dick, but he liked it. He could feel the weight of Tommy, the heat, and the softness of his skin. They'd pushed the covers off in their manoeuvring and Adam found the sight of his hand moving on Tommy arresting. When Tommy started whimpering and tugging at Adam's hair, he leaned in to bite Tommy the way Tommy had done to him, gazing down the length of Tommy's chest as Tommy shot.

Tommy dropped his head to the pillow and Adam lay his head on Tommy's shoulder. Curious, he ran a finger through the cooling streaks on Tommy's skin and put it to his tongue.

Tommy tried to look at him. "What are you doing?"

Adam didn't know. "I don't know."

"You're different than I remember."

Adam stiffened.

"Never said that was a bad thing."

"So why'd you call me, really?" Adam asked, relaxing a little under Tommy's stroking fingers.

Tommy squeezed him tighter. "This wasn't a good enough reason?"

Giving himself a moment to think of an answer, Adam pulled the covers up, tucking them in. And then he realized that was an answer in itself.

"Thought so," Tommy said into Adam's hair.


End file.
